


Trial and Error

by Levis_turtles



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Galra!Keith, M/M, klance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 11:12:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7506067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Levis_turtles/pseuds/Levis_turtles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Keith is injured, he is unable to hold his human disguise. His secret is out to everyone who saw. Thankfully (though Keith may dispute that) there was just one person watching. </p><p>Lance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trial and Error

Lance was _freaking out_. 

Not the kind of freaking out you get when you forget to do your homework or you sleep through your alarm or you use your last pokeball in a field full of pokemon when you’re miles away from the nearest pokestop.

That kind of freaking out Lance could handle.

But _no_. This was the kind of freaking out that occurs when you round a corner and see your long-term rival arguing with a guy with a knife and then he looks at you but you don’t meet his eyes because the knife-guy is surging forwards and now there’s a hole in your rival and a bloody knife at his side and you _don’t know what to do_.

So yeah.

 _Fuck_.

Lance dropped to his knees at Keith’s side. He had already torn his jacket away from his back by the time the grimy wetness of the ground soaked through his trousers. Pressing his jacket to Keith’s side, he thanked God that he had such nerdy friends. He had listened to enough of boy-scout leader Shiro’s lectures to know that you should put pressure on an open wound.

But beyond that, Lance didn’t have a clue.

For some reason, he was thinking about Coronation Street. Kylie Platt was stabbed in the shoulder and she held on for a whole twenty-minute episode. David had held her and he was crying and she was crying and grandma Gail was crying and the ambulance wasn’t-

Ambulance. Lance had to phone an ambulance.

But his phone was in his jacket.

“ _Keith_ ,” he said. Why did his name have to be Keith? Lance could barely keep a straight face while he was bleeding at his knees. What sort of mother named her child Keith? Keith groaned, his eyes peeling open as his head rolled to the side.

He was conscious. That was probably good.

“I have to move my jacket,” Lance said, slowly – he wasn’t sure if a stab wound could affect someone’s intelligence. Not that he thought Keith had a lot of that to begin with. “So I can phone the ambulance.”

Keith shook his head. “No.” He moved his arm, wincing with the exertion, and laid his hand at the crook of Lance’s elbow. “No ambulance.”

Lance rolled his eyes. "Now is not the time for your superiority complex to come shining through,” he barked. Keith looked confused. Lance said, “You may think you’re better than me, but you’re going to bleed out on this pavement just like I would if I don’t call you an ambulance _right now_. And, not that I am particularly concerned about your day to day endeavors, I am a little worried that you're going to _die_ right outside _my_ _house_!”

But again, Keith shook his head. “I’ll be fine,” he croaked, and Lance wasn’t sure if the darkness inside his mouth was a shadow or- He couldn’t even think it.

It could be blood.

It was then that Lance was struck with an idea. Keith’s eyes had slipped closed, and there was an awful blue tinge to his skin that turned Lance’s stomach to look at. No matter what Keith thought, he needed an ambulance. Lance swallowed his pride, leaned forwards, and ran his hands down Keith’s chest.

Keith’s eyes snapped open.

Lance glared at him, and it seemed that Keith was in no position to protest, because his head dropped back down against the pavement. Lance moved his hands further down, to Keith’s hips and around, until his fingers came across something hard. He pulled Keith’s phone out of his pocket and dialled the number.

He heard Keith protesting, felt the weak brush of Keith's fingers against the back of his hand. Lance moved away from him so that he could hear the operator. He was greeted with the standard message, but Lance was talking over her before she could finish. “ _My friend has been stabbed_."

There was a sharp intake of breath behind him.

Over the line, the lady said, “What is your location?”

The same pained gasping sound came again, and Lance spun around, in case anything was seriously wrong.

" _Sir, what is your location?_ "

The phone fell out of Lance’s hand. He mutely heard the lady calling his name, frantically trying to catch his attention. But she had a lot of competition. Keith was staring at Lance, lilac eyes not the only purple portion of his face. Keith blinked, and with just a flutter of his eyelashes, those eyes were yellow, and glowing.

Keith's mouth was open, his hand outstretched, a string of dying words on his lips as he looked away from Lance and towards his purpling skin.

Lance heard the lady on the phone mutter something about 'fucking kids wasting their time'.

Keith looked back up to Lance. He closed his mouth, he swallowed hard. "I can explain," he said.

And then everything went black.

 

.

 

Lance was warm. Too warm, even. There was a heat against his right side that wasn’t on his left. He wondered if he had scored with a pretty girl the night before. Or a pretty boy. He wasn’t picky. He breathed a sigh and rolled closer to the heat.

He felt a slight pain in his cheek, but he ignored it. He was too warm to recognise anything but the soft warmth he was curled up against. But then the pain came again, and Lance frowned.

Was someone slapping him?

“ _Wake up_ ,” someone hissed, and for a moment, it sounded exactly like Keith. But then Lance realised that it couldn’t be Keith, because why on God’s sweet earth would he be cuddling with Keith? “Lance,” the voice came again, more urgent this time, and Lance decided that it couldn’t be Keith. Keith’s voice wasn’t that deep, didn’t have that rough edge that sounded faintly of a growl as he spoke Lance’s name.

The pain came again, and Lance decided a second thing: someone was _definitely_ slapping him.

“I’m up,” Lance murmured, without opening his eyes. He nuzzled his face closer to the heat, and found that it was coming from something hard and metallic. Not a pretty person, then. He groaned. “I had a weird dream.”

Keith was there – in the dream, that is - which was probably why Lance had woken up thinking of Keith. He had been purple, with pointy ears and yellow eyes and what might have been fur at the corner of his jaw. And, surprisingly, it didn’t look bad on him. Lance hoped he wasn’t turning into a furry – if Pidge found out, and Pidge _would_ find out, Lance would never live it down.

“Open your eyes, moron.” And that time the voice sounded so much like Keith that Lance actually did as he was told. And he saw yellow eyes and purple skin and little tufts of fur at the corner of the jaw and then he saw nothing because the world had faded to black.

Again.

 

.

 

The third time Lance was woken up, it was done with a bucket of water over his head. The water rushed up his nose and into his mouth and he shot up, coughing and spluttering as the inside of his face _burned_.

“What the hell?” Lance yelled, when he could actually breathe again. He recognised the room he was sitting in as his own, but could not for the life of him remember how he had got there.The last thing he could remember, he was walking home, when-

“Are you going to faint again?” Came a voice from behind him, and Lance whirled on it.

He had to squint up through the sunlight to see the person’s face, and when yellow eyes stared back at him, Lance blinked. He said, “Why are you purple?”

Keith sighed, with what may have been relief. “I don’t know.”

Lance frowned. “Did you do something to upset Pidge? Because that fucker does revenge, and it can get nasty.” He felt his frown soften. “Though, I’ve never known Pidge to dye someone purple before.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Pidge didn’t dye me purple, Lance.” He lowered himself to Lance’s side, and sat back on his haunches. Up close, Lance could see strange lines on Keith’s face, perhaps where a make-up brush had left streaks? “I’m an alien.”

Lance took a breath. “ _Right_ ,” he said. His lips thinned as he jumped to his feet. “Well, that makes sense.”

A wrinkle formed between Keith’s eyebrows – they were the only part of him that hadn’t been painted. He said, “You’re taking this awfully well.”

“Of course,” Lance said. “I’ve seen E.T. Don’t tell me – he’s your cousin.”

Keith frowned. “What.”

“Or, I know!” Lance gasped. He took a step back, eyes darkening as he dipped his chin to look Keith in the eye. “You’re here on a mission from Captain Kirk. Or one of the Skywalkers. Though, with that hair, it’s probably that new Kylo Ren creep. _Stay away from Hux_ \- I don't trust him.”

Keith seemed to deflate. “You don’t believe me.”

“No, no, I do!” Lance nodded earnestly. “Tell me more about your planet, Spock.”

“I don’t have one,” Keith said. “I’m part of a race called Galra. They travel the universe in search of planets to conquer, and on the hunt for a substance called Quintessence.”

“Oh, right. Like Lord Dominator,” Lance laughed.

Keith was not laughing. “I’m serious,” he said.

“Totally,” Lance agreed, sounding significantly less serious. “So, do you want me to take you to my leader?”

Keith crossed his arms over his chest. “You don’t believe me.” Lance stared at him, hoping that his expression said something along the lines of _‘No shit, Sherlock.’_ Keith sighed. “Just hurry up and faint again. I’m not in the mood for this.”

“For what?” Lance demanded. “Playing a joke on someone that is, in my honest opinion, not particularly fucking funny at all? I mean, pranks are fun, Keith! But you don’t let someone believe that you’ve been stabbed just so you can pull this crap on them!” He shook his head. “You really need to upgrade your sense of humour. And your make-up brush - you're more streaky than a piece of pancetta.”

Keith scowled. “A prank?” He said. He rose to his feet, and towered a good two feet over Lance’s head. His hand slipped down to the hem of his shirt and he lifted it up to his shoulders. “Does this look like a prank to you?”

Lance could only gape.

There was a scar on Keith’s stomach, dark purple against pale violet skin, the exact size of the knife wound. His eyes darted down, to where Lance’s feet were bare – he wasn’t wearing platforms. To his left, in a heap on the floor, Lance saw his jacket, soaked half in a dark red substance, and half in one of a deep purple.

“You’re an alien.” He said, slowly. His mouth didn't quite know what it was saying, but his mind was tumbling around a single conclusion that he couldn't possibly be expected to believe. 

Keith nodded, letting his shirt fall back down around his hips. “I’m an alien.”

Lance could only gape.

**Author's Note:**

> soooooo galra!keith is a thing that i love and i'm fairly new to this fandom but i just had to give it a go!! let me know what you think ^^ xxx


End file.
